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1893 



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1898 






Copyright, 1898 
By JOHN LANE 



THE LJBftARY «F 
60NGRESS, 

TWO COPieS REO£lVE» 

MAY. 6 1902 

COPVRMHT ENTRY 

CLASS XXa N©. 
COPY 8. 



c »Pyri f ht 
'mperfect 

Claim. 



Go 
Bnorew Xang 



(Rontmts 

PAGE 

Admirals All 7 

San Stefano 10 

Drake's Drum . .13 

The Fighting Temeraire 15 

Hawke . .17 

Vje Victis .......... ig 

VlTAI LAMPADA 23 

A Ballad of John Nicholson . . ... 25 

The Guides at Cabul, 1879 29 

The Gay Gordons 32 

"He Fell Among Thieves" 34 

Ionicus 37 

The Dictionary of National Biography . . 38 

Laudabunt Alii 40 

The Vigil 42 



admirals ail 

A Song of Sea Kings 

Effingham, Grenville, Raleigh, Drake, 

Here's to the bold and free ! 
Benbow, Collingwood, Byron, Blake, 

Hail to the Kings of the Sea ! 
Admirals all, for England's sake, 

Honour be yours and fame ! 
And honour, as long as waves shall break, 

To Nelson's peerless name ! 



Admirals all, for England's sake, 
Honour be yours and fame / 

And honour, as long as waves shall break, 
To Nelson s peerless name ! 

Essex was fretting in Cadiz Bay 

With the galleons fair in sight ; 
Howard at last must give him his way, 

And the word was passed to fight. 

7 



atrmirals ail 

Never was schoolboy gayer than he, 
Since holidays first began : 

He tossed his bonnet to wind and sea, 
And under the guns he ran. 



Drake nor devil nor Spaniard feared, 

Their cities he put to the sack ; 
He singed His Catholic Majesty's beard, 

And harried his ships to wrack. 
He was playing at Plymouth a rubber of bowls 

When the great Armada came ; 
But he said, " They must wait their turn, good 
souls," 

And he stooped and finished the game. 



Fifteen sail were the Dutchmen bold, 

Duncan he had but two ; 
But he anchored them fast where the Texel 
shoaled, 

And his colours aloft he flew. 
" I've taken the depth to a fathom," he cried, 

" And I'll sink with a right good will : 
For I know when we're all of us under the tide 

My flag will be fluttering still." 



Splinters were flying above, below, 
When Nelson sailed the Sound : 

" Mark you, I wouldn't be elsewhere now,' 
Said he, "for a thousand pound ! " 



admirals mi 

The Admiral's signal bade him fly, 
But he wickedly wagged his head : 

He clapped the glass to his sightless eye, 
And " I'm damned if I see it ! " he said. 



Admirals all, they said their say 

(The echoes are ringing still). 
Admirals all, they went their way 

To the haven under the hill. 
But they left us a kingdom none can take — 

The realm of the circling sea — 
To be ruled by the rightful sons of Blake, 

And the Rodneys yet to be. 



Admirals all, for England's sake, 

Honour be yours and fame ! 
And honour, as long as waves shall breaks 

To Nelson s peerless name / 



jg>an JSttfano 

A Ballad of the Bold " Menelaus" 

It was morning at St. Helen's, in the great and 
gallant days, 
And the sea beneath the sun glittered wide, 
When the frigate set her courses, all a-shimmer 
in the haze, 
And she hauled her cable home and took the 
tide. 
She'd a right righting company, three hundred 
men and more, 
Nine and forty guns in tackle running free ; 
And they cheered her from the shore for her 
colours at the fore, 
When the bold Menelaus put to sea. 

She 1 da right fighting company, three hundred men 
and more, 
Nine and forty guns in tackle running free j 
And they cheered her fro7n the shore for her colours 
at the fore, 
When the bold Menelaus put to sea. 

She was clear of Monte Cristo, she was heading 
for the land, 
When she spied a pennant red and white and 
blue : 



g>an jSMattn 

They were foemen, and they knew it, and they'd 
half a league in hand, 
But she flung aloft her royals, and she flew. 
She was nearer, nearer, nearer, they were caught 
beyond a doubt, 
But they slipped her into Orbetello Bay, 
And the lubbers gave a shout as they paid their 
cables out, 
With the guns grinning round them where 
they lay. 



Now, Sir Peter was a captain of a famous fighting 
race, 
Son and grandson of an admiral was he ; 
And he looked upon the batteries, he looked upon 
the chase, 
And he heard the shout that echoed out to sea. 
And he called across the decks, " Ay ! the cheer- 
ing might be late 
If they kept it till the Menelans runs ; 
Bid the master and his mate heave the lead and 
lay her straight 
For the prize lying yonder by the guns ! " 



When the summer moon was setting, into Orbe- 
tello Bay 
Came the Menelaus gliding like a ghost ; 
And her boats were manned in silence, and in 
silence pulled away, 
And in silence every gunner took his post. 



jg>an g&Ufmo 

With a volley from her broadside the citadel she 
woke, 
And they hammered back like heroes all the 
night ; 
But before the morning broke she had vanished 
through the smoke 
With her prize upon her quarter grappled 
tight. 

It was evening at St. Helen's, in the great and 
gallant time, 
And the sky behind the down was flushing far ; 
And the flags were all a-flutter, and the bells 
were all a-chime, 
When the frigate cast her anchor off the bar. 
She'd a right fighting company, three hundred 
men and more, 
Nine and forty guns in tackle running free ; 
And they cheered her from the shore for her 
colours at the fore, 
When the bold Menelaus came from sea. 



She'd a right fighting company, three hundred men 
and more, 
Nine and forty guns in tackle running free j 
And they cheered her from the shore for her colours 
at the fore, 
When the bold Menelaus came from sea. 



y: 



©rafe's ©rum 



Drake he's in his hammock an' a thousand mile 
away, 
(Capten, art tha sleepin' there below ?), 
Slung atween the round shot in Nombre Dios 
Bay, 
An' dreamin' arl the time o' Plymouth Hoe. 
Yarnder lumes the island, yarnder lie the ships, 

Wi' sailor lads a-dancin' heel-an'-toe, 
An' the shore-lights flashin', an' the night-tide 
dashin', 
He sees et arl so plainly as he saw et long ago. 



Drake he was a Devon man, an' ruled the Devon 
seas, 
(Capten, art tha sleepin' there below ?), 
Rovin' tho' his death fell, he went wi' heart at 
ease, 
An' dreamin' arl the time o' Plymouth Hoe. 
" Take my drum to England, hang et by the 
shore, 
Strike et when your powder's runnin' low ; 
If the Dons sight Devon, I'll quit the port o' 
Heaven, 
An' drum them up the Channel as we drummed 
them long ago." 

13 



Drake he's in his hammock till the great Armadas 
come, 
(Capten, art tha sleepin' there below ?), 
Slung atween the round shot, listenin' for the 
drum, 
An' dreamin' arl the time o' Plymouth Hoe. 
Call him on the deep sea, call him up the Sound, 

Call him when ye sail to meet the foe ; 
Where the old trade's plyin' an' the old flag flying 
They shall find him ware an' wakin', as they 
found him long ago ! 



14 






It was eight bells ringing, 

For the morning watch was done, 
And the gunner's lads were singing 

As they polished every gun. 
It was eight bells ringing, 
And the gunner's lads were singing, 
For the ship she rode a-swinging, 

As they polished every gun. 



Oh ! to see the linstock lighting, 

Timer aire ! Temeraire / 
Oh ! to hear the round shot biting, 

Teme'raire ! Temeraire ! 
Oh ! to see the linstock lighting, 
And to hear the round shot biting, 
For we're all in love with fighting 
On the Fighting Te'meraire. 



It was noontide ringing, 
And the battle just begun, 

When the ship her way was winging, 
As they loaded every gun. 

i5 



2H)e Jf tg!)tmg Ehnhmt 

It was noontide ringing, 
When the ship her way was winging, 
And the gunner's lads were singing 
As they loaded every gun. 

There'll be many grim and gory, 

Temeraire ! Temtraire ! 
There'll be few to tell the story, 

Temeraire I Temeraire / 
There'll be many grim and gory \ 
There'll be few to tell the story, 
But we'll all be one in glory 
With the Fighting Temeraire. 

There's a far bell ringing 

At the setting of the sun, 
And a phantom voice is singing 

Of the great days done. 
There's a far bell ringing, 
And a phantom voice is singing 
Of renown for ever clinging 
To the great days done. 

Now the sunset breezes shiver, 

Temeraire ! Temeraire ! 
And she's fading down the river , 

Temeraire ! Temeraire / 
Now the sunset breezes shiver, 
And she' s fading down the river, 
But in England's song for ever 
She's the Fighting Temeraire. 

16 



In seventeen hundred and fifty-nine, 

When Hawke came swooping from the West, 
The French King's Admiral with twenty of the 
line 

Was sailing forth to sack us, out of Brest. 
The ports of France were crowded, the quays of 

France a-hum 
With thirty thousand soldiers marching to the 

drum, 
For bragging time was over and fighting time was 
come 
When Hawke came swooping from the West. 

'Twas long past noon of a wild November day 

When Hawke came swooping from the West ; 
He heard the breakers thundering in Quiberon 
Bay, 
But he flew the flag for battle, line abreast. 
Down upon the quicksands roaring out of sight 
Fiercely beat the storm-wind, darkly fell the 

night, 
But they took the foe for pilot and the cannon's 
glare for light 
When Hawke came swooping from the West. 

i7 



The Frenchmen turned like a covey down the 

wind 

When Hawke came swooping from the West ; 

One he sank with all hands, one he caught and 

pinned, 

And the shallows and the storm took the rest. 

The guns that should have conquered us they 

rusted on the shore, 
The men that would have mastered us they 

drummed and marched no more, 
For England was England, and a mighty brood 
she bore 
When Hawke came swooping from the West. 



18 



Beside the placid sea that mirrored her 

With the old glory of dawn that cannot die, 

The sleeping city began to moan and stir, 
As one that fain from an ill dream would 
fly; 

Yet more she feared the daylight bringing 
nigh 
Such dreams as know not sunrise, soon or late, — 

Visions of honour lost and power gone by, 
Of loyal valour betrayed by factious hate, 
And craven sloth that shrank from the labour of 
forging fate. 



They knew and knew not, this bewildered 
crowd, 
That up her streets in silence hurrying 
passed, 
What manner of death should make their 
anguish loud, 
What corpse across the funeral pyre be cast, 
For none had spoken it ; only, gathering fast 

19 



V® Victim 

As darkness gathers at noon in the sun's eclipse, 

A shadow of doom enfolded them, vague and 

vast, 

And a cry was heard, unfathered of earthly lips, 

" What of the ships, O Carthage ? Carthage, 

what of the ships ? " 



They reached the wall, and nowise strange it 
seemed 
To find the gates unguarded and open wide ; 
They climbed the shoulder, and meet enough 
they deemed 
The black that shrouded the seaward ram- 
part's side 
And veiled in drooping gloom the turrets' 
pride ; 
But this was nought, for suddenly down the 
slope 
They saw the harbour, and sense within 
them died ; 
Keel nor mast was there, rudder nor rope ; 
It lay like a sea-hawk's eyry spoiled of life and 
hope. 



Beyond, where dawn was a glittering carpet, 

rolled 

From sky to shore on level and endless seas, 

Hardly their eyes discerned in a dazzle of gold 

That here in fifties, yonder in twos and 

threes, 



V® Uirtte 

The ships they sought, like a swarm of 
drowning bees 
By a wanton gust on the pool of a mill-dam 
hurled, 
Floated forsaken of life-giving tide and 
breeze, 
Their oars broken, their sails for ever furled, 
For ever deserted the bulwarks that guarded the 
wealth of the world. 



A moment yet, with breathing quickly drawn 

And hands agrip, the Carthaginian folk 
Stared in the bright untroubled face of dawn, 
And strove with vehement heaped denial to 

choke 
Their sure surmise of fate's impending 
stroke ; 
Vainly — for even now beneath their gaze 

A thousand delicate spires of distant smoke 
Reddened the disc of the sun with a stealthy 
haze, 
And the smouldering grief of a nation burst with 
the kindling blaze. 

" O dying Carthage ! " so their passion raved, 
" Would nought but these the conqueror's 
hate assuage ? 
If these be taken, how may the land be saved 
Whose meat and drink was empire, age by 

age ? " 
And bitter memory cursed with idle rage 



V® Victim 

The greed that coveted gold above renown, 

The feeble hearts that feared their heritage, 
The hands that cast the sea-kings' sceptre 
down 
And left to alien brows their famed ancestral 



The endless noon, the endless evening through, 

All other needs forgetting, great or small, 

They drank despair with thirst whose torment 

grew 

As the hours died beneath that stifling pall. 

At last they saw the fires to blackness fall 

One after one, and slowly turned them home, 

A little longer yet their own to call 
A city enslaved, and wear the bonds of Rome, 
With weary hearts foreboding all the woe to 
come. 



There's a breathless hush in the Close to-night- 
Ten to make and the match to win — 

A bumping pitch and a blinding light, 
An hour to play and the last man in. 

And it's not for the sake of a ribboned coat, 
Or the selfish hope of a season's fame, 

But his Captain's hand on his shoulder smote 
" Play up ! play up ! and play the game ! " 



The sand of the desert is sodden red, — 

Red with the wreck of a square that broke ; — 
The Gatling's jammed and the colonel dead 

And the regiment blind with dust and smoke. 
The river of death has brimmed his banks, 

And England's far, and Honour a name, 
But the voice of a schoolboy rallies the ranks, 

" Play up ! play up ! and play the game ! " 

23 



Vitai Hampafta 

This is the word that year by year 

While in her place the School is set 
Every one of her sons must hear, 

And none that hears it dare forget. 
This they all with a joyful mind 

Bear through life like a torch in flame, 
And falling fling to the host behind — 

" Play up ! play up ! and play the game ! ' 



24 



a Ballalr of Joijn fitcfjotemt 



It fell in the year of Mutiny, 

At darkest of the night, 
John Nicholson by Jalandhar came, 

On his way to Delhi fight. 

And as he by Jalandhar came, 

He thought what he must do, 
And he sent to the Rajah fair greeting, 

To try if he were true. 

" God grant your Highness length of days, 
And friends when need shall be ; 

And I pray you send your Captains hither, 
That they may speak with me." 

On the morrow through Jalandhar town 

The Captains rode in state ; 
They came to the house of John Nicholson, 

And stood before the gate. 



The chief of them was Mehtab Singh, 
He was both proud and sly ; 

His turban gleamed with rubies red, 
He held his chin full high. 

25 



He marked his fellows how they put 
Their shoes from off their feet ; 

" Now wherefore make ye such ado 
These fallen lords to greet ? 



" They have ruled us for a hundred years, 

In truth I know not how, 
But though they be fain of mastery 

They dare not claim it now." 

Right haughtily before them all 

The durbar hall he trod, 
With rubies red his turban gleamed, 

His feet with pride were shod. 

They had not been an hour together, 

A scanty hour or so, 
When Mehtab Singh rose in his place 

And turned about to go. 

Then swiftly came John Nicholson 

Between the door and him, 
With anger smouldering in his eyes, 

That made the rubies dim. 



"You are over-hasty, Mehtab Singh, "- 

Oh, but his voice was low ! 
He held his wrath with a curb of iron 

That furrowed cheek and brow. 
26 



a SSaliatr of Joim jUirfjolgan 

" You are over-hasty, Mehtab Singh, 
When that the rest are gone, 

I have a word that may not wait 
To speak with you alone." 



The Captains passed in silence forth 
And stood the door behind ; 

To go before the game was played 
Be sure they had no mind. 

But there within John Nicholson 
Turned him on Mehtab Singh, 

" So long as the soul is in my body 
You shall not do this thing. 



" Have ye served us for a hundred years 

And yet ye know not why ? 
We brook no doubt of our mastery, 

We rule until we die. 



" Were I the one last Englishman 
Drawing the breath of life, 

And you the master-rebel of all 
That stir this land to strife — 



" Were I," he said, " but a Corporal, 

And you a Rajput King, 
So long as the soul was in my body 

You should not do this thing. 

27 



a ISaliaft of Scrim Hirijotecm 

" Take off, take off, those shoes of pride, 
Carry them whence they came ; 

Your Captains saw your insolence, 
And they shall see your shame." 



When Mehtab Singh came to the door 

His shoes they burned his hand, 
For there in long and silent lines 

He saw the Captains stand. 

When Mehtab Singh rode from the gate 

His chin was on his breast : 
The Captains said, " When the strong command 

Obedience is best." 



28 



Wfyz ©itite at (ttaiml, 1879 

Sons of the Island race, wherever ye dwell, 
Who speak of your fathers' battles with lips 
that burn, 
The deed of an alien legion hear me tell, 

And think not shame from the hearts ye tamed 

to learn, 
When succour shall fail and the tide for a 
season turn, 
To fight with a joyful courage, a passionate pride, 
To die at the last as the Guides at Cabul died. 



For a handful of seventy men in a barrack of 

mud, 
Foodless, waterless, dwindling one by one, 
Answered a thousand yelling for English blood 
With stormy volleys that swept them gunner 

from gun, 
And charge on charge in the glare of the 

Afghan sun, 
Till the walls were shattered wherein they 

couched at bay, 
And dead or dying half of the seventy lay. 

29 



2T*K ©nitres at (ttaiul, 1879 

Twice they had taken the cannon that wrecked 
their hold, 
Twice toiled in vain to drag it back, 
Thrice they toiled, and alone, wary and bold, 
Whirling a hurricane sword to scatter the rack, 
Hamilton, last of the English, covered their 
track. 
" Never give in ! " he cried, and he heard them 

shout, 
And grappled with death as a man that knows 
not doubt. 



And the Guides looked down from their smoul- 
dering barrack again, 
And behold, a banner of truce, and a voice 
that spoke : 
" Come, for we know that the English all are slain, 
We keep no feud with men of a kindred folk ; 
Rejoice with us to be free of the conqueror's 
yoke." 
Silence fell for a moment, then was heard 
A sound of laughter and scorn, and an answering 
word. 



" Is it we or the lords we serve who have earned 

this wrong, 
That ye call us to flinch from the battle they 

bade us fight ? 
We that live — do ye doubt that our hands are 

strong ? 

3° 



W^t Outires at (ttafml, 1870 

They that are fallen — ye know that their 

blood was bright ! 
Think ye the Guides will barter for lust of the 
light 
The pride of an ancient people in warfare bred, 
Honour of comrades living, and faith to the 
dead?" 



Then the joy that spurs the warrior's heart 

To the last thundering gallop and sheer leap 
Came on the men of the Guides : they flung apart 
The doors not all their valour could longer 

keep ; 
They dressed their slender line ; they breathed 
deep, 
And with never a foot lagging or head bent 
To the clash and clamour and dust of death they 
went. 



3i 



(Dargai, October 20, 1897) 

Who's for the Gathering, who's for the Fair ? 

(Gay goes the Gordon to a fight) 
The bravest of the brave are at deadlock there, 

(Highlanders / march ! by the right /) 
There are bullets by the hundred buzzing in the 

air, 
There are bonny lads lying on the hillside bare ; 
But the Gordons know what the Gordons dare 
When they hear the pipers playing ! 

The happiest English heart today 

( & a y g° es t ne Gordon to a fight) 
Is the heart of the Colonel, hide it as he may ; 

(Steady there I steady on the right/) 
He sees his work and he sees his way, 
He knows his time and the word to say, 
And he's thinking of the tune that the Gordons 
play 
When he sets the pipers playing ! 

Rising, roaring, rushing like the tide, 

( Gay goes the Gordon to a fight) 
They're up through the fire -zone, not to be 
denied ; 

(Bayonets ! and charge by the right !) 

32 



W§t (Bag dortroius 

Thirty bullets straight where the rest went wide, 
And thirty lads are lying on the bare hillside ; 
But they passed in the hour of the Gordons' 
pride, 
To the skirl of the pipers' playing. 



33 



"ffit JF*U among ffltytebW 



" Ye have robbed," said he, " ye have slaugh- 
tered and made an end ; 
Take your ill-got plunder, and bury the dead : 
What will ye more of your guest and sometime 
friend ? " 
" Blood for our blood," they said. 

He laughed : " If one may settle the score for 
five 
I am ready ; but let the reckoning stand till 
day : 
I have loved the sunlight as dearly as any alive." 
" You shall die at dawn," said they. 

He flung his empty revolver down the slope ; 

He climbed alone to the eastward edge of the 
trees ; 
All night long in a dream untroubled of hope 

He brooded, clasping his knees. 

He did not hear the monotonous roar that fills 
The ravine where the Yassin River sullenly 
flows ; 

He did not see the starlight on the Laspur hills, 
Or the far Afghan snows. 

34 



"W jFell among W$foz%" 

He saw the April noon on his books aglow, 
The wistaria trailing in at the window wide ; 

He heard his father's voice from the terrace 
below 
Calling him down to ride. 



He saw the gray little church across the park, 
The mounds that hide the loved and honoured 
dead ; 

The Norman arch, the chancel softly dark, 
The brasses black and red. 



He saw the School Close, sunny and green, 
The runner beside him, the stand by the para- 
pet wall, 

The distant tape, and the crowd roaring between 
His own name over all. 



He saw the dark wainscot and timbered roof, 
The long tables, and the faces merry and 
keen ; 

The College Eight and their trainer dining aloof, 
The Dons on the dais serene. 



He watched the liner's stem ploughing the foam, 
He felt her trembling speed and the thrash of 
her screw ; 

He heard her passengers' voices talking of home, 
He saw the flag she flew. 

35 



"Wit jfell among ©fnebes" 

And now it was dawn. He rose strong on his 
feet, 
And strode to his ruined camp below the 
wood : 
He drank the breath of the morning cool and 
sweet ; 
His murderers round him stood. 



Light on the Laspur hills was broadening fast, 
The blood-red snow-peaks chilled to a dazzling 
white ; 

He turned, and saw the golden circle at last, 
Cut by the Eastern height. 

" O glorious Life, Who dwellest in earth and 
sun, 
I have lived, I praise and adore Thee." 

A sword swept. 
Over the pass the voices one by one 
Faded, and the hill slept. 



36 



Ijmtatg 



With failing feet and shoulders bowed 

Beneath the weight of happier days, 
He lagged among the heedless crowd, 

Or crept along suburban ways. 
But still through all his heart was young, 

His mood a joy that nought could mar, 
A courage, a pride, a rapture, sprung 

Of the strength and splendour of England's war. 

From ill-requited toil he turned 

To ride with Picton and with Pack, 
Among his grammars inly burned 

To storm the Afghan mountain-track. 
When midnight chimed, before Quebec 

He watched with Wolfe till the morning star ; 
At noon he saw from Victory's deck 

The sweep and splendour of England's war. 

Beyond the book his teaching sped, 

He left on whom he taught the trace 
Of kinship with the deathless dead, 

And faith in all the Island race. 
He passed : his life a tangle seemed, 

His age from fame and power was far ; 
But his heart was high to the end, and dreamed 

Of the sound and splendour of England's war. 

37 



©Je ©tctumars of Rational 



Sitting at times over a hearth that burns 

With dull domestic glow, 
My thought, leaving the book, gratefully turns 

To you who planned it so. 



Not of the great only you deigned to tell, — 

The stars by which we steer, — 
But lights out of the night that flashed, and fell 

To night again, are here. 



Such as were those, dogs of an elder day, 

Who sacked the golden ports, 
And those later who dare grapple their prey 

Beneath the harbour forts : 



Some with flag at the fore, sweeping the world 

To find an equal fight, 
And some who joined war to their trade, and hurled 

Ships of the line in flight. 

38 



Rational Uiogtapi)g 

Whether their fame centuries long should ring 

They cared not over-much, 
But cared greatly to serve God and the king, 

And keep the Nelson touch ; 



And fought to build Britain above the tide 

Of wars and windy fate ; 
And passed content, leaving to us the pride 

Of lives obscurely great. 



39 



1 



Hauiraimnt aiit 

{After Horace) 

Let others praise, as fancy wills, 

Berlin beneath her trees, 
Or Rome upon her seven hills, 

Or Venice by her seas ; 
Stamboul by double tides embraced, 
Or green Damascus in the waste. 



For me there's nought I would not leave 

For the good Devon land, 
Whose orchards down the echoing cleeve 

Bedewed with spray-drift stand, 
And hardly bear the red fruit up 
That shall be next year's cider-cup. 



You too, my friend, may wisely mark 
How clear skies follow rain, 

And, lingering in your own green park 
Or drilled on Laffan's Plain, 

Forget not with the festal bowl 

To soothe at times your weary soul. 
40 



iLauirafmnt Elii 

When Drake must bid to Plymouth Hoe 

Good-bye for many a day, 
And some were sad and feared to go, 

And some that dared not stay, 
Be sure he bade them broach the best, 
And raised his tankard with the rest. 



" Drake's luck to all that sail with Drake 
For promised lands of gold ! 

Brave lads, whatever storms may break, 
We've weathered worse of old ! 

To-night the loving-cup we'll drain, 

To-morrow for the Spanish Main ! " 



4i 



Stye Iftgtl 

England ! where the sacred flame 

Burns before the inmost shrine, 
Where the lips that love thy name 

Consecrate their hopes and thine. 
Where the banners of thy dead 
Weave their shadows overhead, 
Watch beside thine arms to-night, 
Pray that God defend the Right. 

Think that when to-morrow comes 

War shall claim command of all, 

Thou must hear the roll of drums, 

Thou must hear the trumpet's call. 
Now, before they silence ruth, 
Commune with the voice of truth ; 
England ! on thy knees to-night 
Pray that God defend the Right. 

Hast thou counted up the cost, 
What to foeman, what to friend ? 

Glory sought is Honour lost, 

How should this be knighthood's end ? 

Know'st thou what is Hatred's meed ? 

What the surest gain of Greed ? 

England ! wilt thou dare to-night 

Pray that God defend the Right ? 

42 



Single-hearted, unafraid, 

Hither all thy heroes came, 
On this altar's steps were laid 

Gordon's life and Outram's fame. 
England ! if thy will be yet 
By their great example set, 
Here beside thine arms to-night 
Pray that God defend the Right. 

So shalt thou when morning comes 

Rise to conquer or to fall, 
Joyful hear the rolling drums, 

Joyful hear the trumpet's call. 
Then let Memory tell thy heart 
" England! what thou wert, thou art!" 
Gird thee with thine ancient might, 
Forth ! and God defend the Right ! 



43 



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